


An Unexpected Picnic

by springhorton



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Afternoon Tea, Beaches, Brighton Beach, Fluff, M/M, New Friends, Picnics, Post Armagedidn't, Post-Canon, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), aziraphale has a bathing suit hangup, crowley in a speedo, on off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:08:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23015269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springhorton/pseuds/springhorton
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale have saved the world, and survived their trials, but now what? Aziraphale is content to go back to their relatively normal lives, and for a while, Crowley simply basks in the glory of being with his angel. For a few days, that is, before boredom sets in. He convinces Aziraphale to go to Brighton before the summer ends, and what ensues is...a lot of fluff!
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 2
Kudos: 48





	An Unexpected Picnic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hazel28](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hazel28/gifts).



It had been a long and quiet few days since Armageddidn’t and Crowley and Aziraphale’s trials. After tea at the Ritz, they weren’t exactly sure what to do with themselves. Being left alone meant that Crowley no longer had evil deeds to pull off and Aziraphale no longer had any evil to thwart. Though Crowley had originally offered to let Aziraphale stay with him for a while, he ended up going back to the bookshop instead. He wasn’t sure why; he certainly didn’t read and the whole place was much too old-fashioned for him. Still, the idea of being near his friend without the worry of prying eyes felt nice...at first. 

“Angel, I’m bored,” he groaned from the sofa a few days later. “How can you just sit there and...read that thing?” 

“It’s a book, my dear, that’s what you do with them,” Aziraphale answered patiently from the chair at his desk. 

“Yes, but we have the world. Why don’t we get out and do something before the summer ends?” 

Aziraphale sighed and closed his book, before removing the reading glasses he didn’t really need from the bridge of his nose. “You know, it is possible to ‘do something’ during the winter as well,” he pointed out. 

Crowley made a face and shivered just thinking about it. 

“There is Christmas, after all,” Aziraphale added, brightly, his thoughts filling with the possibility of spending the holidays with the demon. 

“Ngk,” Crowley answered with a shrug. When the angel made a disappointed sound, he quickly enthused, “Why don’t we go to Brighton?” 

“Brighton? What’s in Brighton?” 

“The beach, angel, the beach! We could have a picnic.” 

“Seems an awfully long way to go for a picnic,” Aziraphale pouted. 

Crowley smiled slyly. “It’ll be warm, the sea air clean, the sushi fresh.” 

Aziraphale’s eyebrows crept up. “Sushi?” 

“Whatever you want. Then we can bask in the sun, dip our toes in the cool water, and watch some humans make fools of themselves in silly outfits and hats.” 

Aziraphale gave him a scolding look, but Crowley knew that he’d won him over and grinned. Then he slunk to his feet and shouted, “Pack your bathing suit and then we’ll stop by my place.” 

“Bathing suit?” Aziraphale gasped. 

“It’s a beach, angel.” 

An hour later, an angel and a demon were headed south out of London in a very large Bentley. Aziraphale’s luggage had taken up most of the boot, and Crowley wasn’t sure the angel had been out of London since the French Revolution. 

“It’s just a weekend trip,” Crowley pointed out as he overtook a lumbering lorry. 

Aziraphale squeaked and braced himself as the car whipped back into the other lane. “Yes, but we don’t know where we’re staying or what the weather will be or-” 

“We can stay anywhere you like. It’ll be the fanciest picnic you’ve ever had. You won’t need anything but the bathing suit, trust me.” 

Aziraphale squirmed at the mention of the bathing suit again, wishing they’d simply gone to Hampstead Heath and sat under a tree. 

Twenty minutes later, the Bentley sped into Brighton, and though it was only forty-seven miles out of London, it seemed like a world away. Brightly colored shops lined the streets, many of them seafood restaurants or tourist traps. Some even catered to the water sport enthusiast with surf boards leaning against the wall or boating supplies lining the sidewalk. Everyone seemed young and carefree, roaming the sidewalks in shorts, eating ice creams. To Aziraphale, it was a bit like arriving in another country. 

“Everyone seems rather happy here,” he said with a smile. 

“Yes,” Crowley agreed in disgust. For the first time, he was starting to doubt his choice of destinations. “It’s all very...bright. We could turn around and go home if you want,” he suggested. 

“No, no, let’s see what the young people are getting up to these days,” Aziraphale enthused. 

Crowley hadn’t been to Brighton in years, but he knew just where to take Aziraphale, The Grand Brighton. Of course, the nicest room, with the biggest balcony was available for them and when their porter managed to get them and their luggage up to it, it turned out to be larger than a lot of London flats. 

“Oh my, Crowley, this is magnificent,” Aziraphale breathed, practically twirling around the room. 

The demon was less impressed, but he smiled lovingly anyway, enjoying the angel’s enjoyment. Then he tipped the porter and sat down on the oversized bed, large enough to sleep four or five people. 

“So, lunch then?” he suggested. 

Aziraphale smiled, thinking of all the scrumptious choices the restaurant downstairs would have, but then the smile faltered. He turned toward the demon and shook his head. 

“What about afternoon tea instead?” he countered. “I want to have a real picnic; just you and me and some sandwiches or something like that on the beach.” 

Crowley’s face lit up and Aziraphale blushed when he stood up and grinned. “You’d better get changed then,” he replied. 

“Do I have to?” the angel groaned. “I haven’t been in a bathing suit in...” 

“Well, you can’t go down to the beach looking like that,” Crowley said, gesturing toward the suit Aziraphale had been wearing since the nineteenth century. 

“Oh, alright,” the angel huffed and then disappeared into the bathroom to change. When he came back out, he choked at the sight of Crowley in something very small and very red. “Is that...it?” he asked. 

“Yep,” his companion smirked, and then pulled on a pair of shorts. “Don’t worry, I brought sunscreen.” 

“I hope it’s a large bottle,” Aziraphale quipped. 

It was only then that Crowley noticed what the angel was wearing. “What is that?” he asked in disbelief. 

Aziraphale glanced down at the one piece, tartan outfit. It had a full, short sleeved shirt and shorts that hung down to his knees. “This, my dear, is a proper bathing suit.” 

“Yes, for a Victorian lady.” 

Aziraphale huffed again and turned away. “I knew going to the beach was a bad idea.” 

“No, come on, angel, you look fine. Wear whatever you want.” Crowley sighed when Aziraphale only shook his head. Then he stepped up behind the angel and hesitantly put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I knew you were feeling...anyway, I shouldn’t have made you feel worse about it.” 

Aziraphale turned, their faces very close together now. “Really? You mean that?” 

“Of course, I do. It was my silly idea to come down here and spend the weekend with you.” He wanted very much to add, because you’re my angel, but he was too embarrassed to say it. 

“It’s not silly, Crowley. It’s wonderful.” With that, Aziraphale smiled and the entire room seemed to get a little brighter. Then he gently took Crowley’s hand, and the two of them meandered down to the beach. 

On the boardwalk, they found a menagerie of vendors, selling everything from ice creams to fish and chips to more exotic, far flung fare. Aziraphale talked Crowley into trying some California style fish tacos, along with some ice creams. By the time they’d found a good spot on the beach, their dessert was almost eaten. 

“There’s something so naughty about eating dessert first,” Aziraphale commented as if it were the evilest thing he’d ever done. 

“Yes,” Crowley sassed as he finished his lolly. “Horribly wicked.” 

Aziraphale gave him a scolding yet playful look, and then tossed out a blanket that almost matched his bathing suit. They’d rented an umbrella for the afternoon, so he set that up too as Crowley looked on. 

“You’re doing a beautiful job, angel,” he teased as he ran back to pick up their order from the taco stand. 

Nearby, two men glanced over at the sound of Crowley shouting “angel,” and lowered their sunglasses. What they caught sight of was a rather thin red head running up the beach, and a curly haired blonde who looked like he was trying to be too fashionable for his own good. The two men glanced at one another and smiled. 

Once Crowley was back, he and Aziraphale sat down under the umbrella and cautiously waded into lunch. 

“Oh my, this is actually very good,” Aziraphale commented after taking a bite of the messy, overstuffed taco. “You really should try it.” 

Crowley made a reluctant face as he disassembled his taco, choosing to eat the ingredients one by one. “The sauce isn’t bad,” he admitted. 

“It’s a little...spicy,” Aziraphale said, quickly reaching for the large cup of lemonade he’d bought. 

Crowley managed to eat half of his taco before he became more interested in watching Aziraphale eat his, but the angel finished it up for him. Then Aziraphale watched anxiously as Crowley slipped off his shorts and moved out from underneath the umbrella so he could sunbathe. No one seemed to notice or care about the skimpy suit or Aziraphale’s conflicted blush, so after a few minutes of staring, he relaxed and pulled a book from the bag he’d brought the blanket in. It was an inexpensive trade paperback, nothing he’d worry about getting sand or water damage. 

He didn’t get very far into reading, though, when he heard Crowley roll over and sit up. Aziraphale lowered the book to see two suntanned men walking over to their spot. He also noticed that they were walking hand in hand. 

“Hi,” one of them said, a handsome man with dark floppy hair. Once he got to the shade of the umbrella, he took off his sunglasses and smiled. 

Both Crowley and Aziraphale noted a foreign accent, and as Aziraphale stood up to greet him back, he noticed that both men were a few inches shorter than him. 

“Oh, um, hello,” Aziraphale said, both intrigued and delighted to be meeting strangers on a beach. It wasn’t something one did in London. 

“We just wanted to come over and say hello,” the man said, shaking Aziraphale’s hand. “We noticed you two over here, all alone. I hope we’re not intruding.” 

Crowley made a sound that seemed to mean that they might have been, but Aziraphale ignored him. “Of course not,” he said graciously. “I’m Aziraphale, and this is Crowley,” he added, gently driving his foot into the demon’s backside. 

When Crowley got to his feet to shake hands, their new friend said, “I’m Austin, this is Ash.” He turned and smiled warmly at the man standing just behind his right shoulder. When Ash stepped forward to shake hands too, Austin put an arm on his shoulder. 

“Americans?” Aziraphale asked. 

Austin nodded. “We’re from California.” 

“Of course, you are,” Crowley mumbled, but smiled when Aziraphale elbowed him in the ribs. 

“Don’t mind him,” the angel said pleasantly. “I think he’s just jealous of your tan.” Aziraphale looked the two muscular men over with a raised eyebrow and a slight blush. 

“He shouldn’t be,” Ash countered, giving Crowley the same once over. 

It was Austin’s turn to blush, but he gave Ash a sassy, playful look, and then turned back to Aziraphale. “Mind if we join you?” 

“Not at all!” the angel replied, and moved his bag out of the way, so there was room for the four of them on the blanket. 

Though Crowley and Aziraphale weren’t really used to the company of humans, at least not those that truly wanted to get to know them and befriend them, it turned out that Austin and Ash were very accommodating of their weird stories and half-truths. It was tough trying to make up a back story for oneself that sounded even remotely true when you were a six-thousand-year-old supernatural being. In fact, the two men were so friendly and fun to talk to, that the angel and the demon almost entertained the idea of telling them the truth. They thought that might ruin things a bit, though, so they didn’t. 

After a couple of hours of chatting, Ash and Crowley watching Austin trying to get Aziraphale to brave the water, and discussing the cultural differences between their two countries, the afternoon had worn on to tea time. 

“Where are the two of you staying?” Aziraphale asked as he packed up the tartan blanket and Crowley took down the umbrella. 

“The Grand Brighton,” Ash answered. 

Aziraphale’s face lit up and he glanced over at Crowley. He knew the demon knew what he was about to say, but to his surprise, he looked indulgent. “Us too!” the angel exclaimed. “We’d planned to go in for a nice afternoon tea. We could continue our conversations...there will be cake and little sandwiches, perhaps even champagne.” 

Austin flashed him a toothy grin and laughed. “What do you say, babe?” he asked Ash. 

Ash rubbed a scruffy chin, pretending to seriously be thinking it over, and then grinned too. He nodded. “Sounds like a great excuse to dress up. This man cleans up very well,” he said with a wink and a nod toward Austin. 

“See you downstairs in half an hour?” Austin asked. 

Aziraphale nodded enthusiastically and then watched as the two of them crossed the street, hand in hand, to the looming hotel. He and Crowley soon followed, both of them deep in thought. As they changed back into their clothes in their room a little later, though, Aziraphale couldn’t help but wonder about the day. 

“Those two are lovely humans, aren’t they?” he said, trying to sound neutral, but obviously fishing for something. 

“Yeah, I suppose so,” Crowley answered. 

“And they seem very close.” 

“What’s your point, angel?” Crowley asked, poking his head into the bathroom as Aziraphale finished putting on his bowtie. 

“Well...I mean...they obviously seem to think you and I...” 

A lump formed in Crowley’s throat and all he could manage was a weak, “Ah,” before disappearing back into the room. 

“Ah?” Aziraphale said, following him. “What do you mean, ‘ah’?” 

For the first time, it occurred to Crowley that, maybe, just maybe, the angel was waiting for him to make another move. He’d made so many, over so many centuries, that he assumed nothing would ever happen between them. But now that Aziraphale was free of his rules and regulations. Crowley opened his mouth, and then completely froze. He simply shook his head and then walked to the door. 

Downstairs, they found Austin and Ash waiting for them, both looking as if they’d never been to the beach and had come to Brighton for some kind of very expensive event. Ash was in a business suit and Austin a turtle neck and blazer. 

“Ah, there they are!” Austin enthused to the hostess and both men held up their hands as if waiting to greet friends they’d known for decades. Then they pulled Crowley and Aziraphale into unexpected hugs before following the hostess to a large table surrounded by sofas. The table was already set for tea, Aziraphale having put in their order before going upstairs. 

“Wow, this is gorgeous,” Ash remarked and he and Austin took the seat by the window, while Crowley and Aziraphale sat on the sofa across from them. 

Half an hour later, the four of them were laughing and chatting about some of the more ridiculous things they’d seen in Brighton. 

“So, how long have you two been together?” Crowley asked, nonchalantly. 

“Oh,” Austin said, taking a breath and looking at Ash lovingly. “Almost twenty years,” he answered. 

Crowley hid a smirk behind his glass of champagne, amused at the tone in Austin’s voice, as if twenty years was all the time in the world. He almost choked though, whenever Ash asked the same of him and Aziraphale. 

“Um, that’s a very complicated story,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley could hear a hint of pain in his voice. He gritted his teeth and set the glass of champagne down. Then he took the angel’s hand and looked deeply into his eyes. 

“I think it’s only truly been official as of this moment,” he said quietly. He heard gasps of aww come from the other sofa, but he ignored them, focusing all his attention on Aziraphale. “I love you, angel, I always have.” 

Aziraphale blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears from his eyes. “I know. I’m sorry I couldn’t keep up with you.” 

Crowley shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.” Then he leaned over and pressed his lips to his angel’s. Time seemed to slow, and he didn’t know how long the kiss lasted; it could have been moments or an entire age. Eventually, he became aware of the sound of clapping, and when he backed away from Aziraphale, he saw Austin and Ash clapping furiously, their arms entwined. 

The two of them spent the next day mostly lounging about their own room or strolling through Brighton, looking at things as if they’d never seen them before. They had lunch with Austin and Ash, exchanging contact information and promising to put the two of them up at the bookstore the next time they came to London. The two of them were completely enamored with the idea of someone living at a bookstore, which put Aziraphale over the moon. On Sunday, he and Crowley packed up to head home, but instead of going straight back to the city, decided to take a drive along the coast first. The South Downs were full of green, flowery rolling hills that time of year, and dotted with quaint, historic villages. 

As they drove out of one, having stopped to pick up some freshly baked bread and an ice cream, Aziraphale’s hand shot up to his chest and then the other shot to Crowley’s. 

“Crowley, stop the car!” 

If the angel had been human, Crowley would have thought he was having a heart attack. He swerved the car over to the shoulder of the road, but as soon as he’d stopped, Aziraphale threw open the door and rushed out. 

“Angel!” the demon yelled and followed him with an annoyed growl. When he caught up, he saw just what had set Aziraphale off. The angel was standing in front of a rustic, whitewashed, thatched roof cottage; a cottage with a large, very clear, “for sale” sign in front of it. 

“Oh Crowley, could we? We wouldn’t have to live here full time. I know you like city life, and I love my bookstore, but...we could come down here anytime we wanted and...” He didn’t know how else to describe the feeling he was having, so he simply beamed at Crowley, willing him to feel the same way. 

The demon pulled down his sunglasses and looked the cottage over. Then a sly, crooked smile crossed his face.


End file.
